Assessing Conformation of Shadowfax
by picket fence
Summary: face it, we all hate Shadowfax, r and r please
1. man o' war kicks ass

Now, my lovely readers! Please do not contradict me and what I say in the next few pages or so. Unless you are an Olympic level trainer you will not and I repeat you will not tell me how to ride a horse. If you do I will grind your bones to make my bread. I am sorry to be so threatening for in real life I am not; I just don't take kindly to those who pretend to be above me in my riding skill. Dude! That really makes me sound like a snotty little person who continually rides up another horses' butt! Doesn't that just annoy the crap out of all ya you rider? Anyway, this is a spur of the moment thing when I felt like everyone in the whole lovely but freaking annoying middle-earth was kind of too perfect. I decided to put some flaws on 'em. Well, Shadowfax that is.

And Gandalf rode up on his little gray horsie, Shadowfax to show off to everyone else. Of course, the company was less impressed with what Shadowfax had to offer. Standing at about mere 15 hands high, a plain wreck of a poorly breed horse.

"Darn Gandalf!" Merry explained as he assessed the conformation of Shadowfax, "what! Did your mother make love with Boromir or something?"

"He is the apple of King Theoden's eye, Merry, do not undermine him," said Gandalf, "he is a noble beast mind you!"

"Aww, noble my ass," cried Merry, "don't you freakin' wizards know anything? Or are you too all-seeing and omnipotent to look at reality? You know omnipotent is one heck of a cool word? That'll be my word of the day!" Pippin began rambling on and on endlessly about all the interesting words he had in his vocabulary, most of which he didn't know the meaning of.

"Well," Legolas stated after looking at Shadowfax for a time, "his endurance must be well having been able to bear you. Although, I admit, his carriage is a bit off. He holds his head too high. Maybe a nice loose ring snaffle would do him the trick."

"Aye. Perhaps maybe a Dr. Bristol at the least, especially when one is riding openly," said Gimli.

"Aw, what do you know? Can you not see the beauty in a nice quiet canter, the collection of the horse along a rocky way? Nay, what do you know, you dwell in caves and know nothing of the equine world."

"And what is that suppose to mean? Oh, ya, like we're really going to practice balance seat while we're being pursued by orcs. What are you? A gay little dressage elf? Most all men riding dressage are a little bit fruity anyway. Should have figured I guess." And with that the two began to bicker on and on endlessly. Gandalf in despair, turned to Aragorn but nothing of omen was to be seen in his eyes.

"Shadowfax would not suit me either. I am an eventer dear Gandalf and far from the novice course in cross-country. A good and sound horse would I take, not an aged heaving mare. Look! Thy horse is over at the knee and pigeon toed non-the less. Not to mention slightly cow-hocked. This horse is build for something other than war reenactments, my guess would be a nice pleasure ride on a sunny day for a hunter course."

"His backs a bit too long," stated Legolas.

"And head a bit too large," stated Gimli.

"Your head's a bit too big," cried Legolas a bit annoyed. They began their petty torments to each other again while Boromir and Aragorn sat back and laughed. When it did not cease and Boromir and Aragorn noticed that no one was paying them much heed, they took off into the woods, but we shall save that for another tale.

"So what do you think about Shadowfax Frodo?" Gandalf said finally when he realized the audience was slowly decreasing.

"Frankly, I don't really care, Gandalf," he said solemnly, "I am neither an eventer nor specialize in hunter jumper competitions, nor equestrian in general. To put it in as nice of words that I can relate unto thee, I do not care and I do not want to care."

"Dude, is Sam crawling up your pants again, Frodo?" Pippin asked realizing that Sam wasn't there.

"No, he um…must have gone off some place," said Frodo and he walked away looking a little nervous, as though a large weight had indeed been placed in his pants. 

"Thin and stretched he is," quoted Merry, "you could have sworn that either he'd lost the ring or was keeping something back from us."

"Aww, yes," said Pippin and they looked at each other and chuckled, or more of giggled. Pretty soon they were off in the woods claiming that they were collecting firewood.

"Yes, we dearly need fire wood!" They said together at the same time.

"Oh, by the way, Gandalf, when was the last time he had his sheath cleaned?" Merry asked as they went off to "get firewood".

Ok, I admit, I really only put this up because I wanted to see if I could write a lemon of some sort or other that is not all innocent. Tell me if you want me to continue for it is a harsh little story. This was actually a bit of an experiment to see how many people would want to steam me. I don't really care if you hate it and please do tell me if you do for I would love to hear someone flame me right now. I am an evil little writer, keep that in mind my readers whether you hate me or love me. Oh, and peoples, I am aware that this has no particular time or date or anything relevant to the story, if you review, do tell me something that I am not aware of.


	2. Watching Paint Dry

Well, Hal, I am so sorry you hated it, well not really, actually I'm very happy to waste people's time. In fact, I am so happy/sorry that I decided to write another chapter. I have odd ways of being inspired! Perhaps I can waste another 3-5 minutes of someone else's time, as you probably won't read this after last chapter! Oh joy! I am so glad I have a hateful opinion on something and just for that sass I'm gonna write another chappie for all those who hate it and and also just for the heck of it! Oh, I should warn you people this is very strong pg-13 and well, that's about it. Ok, well here goes another 3 minutes of someone else's time I hope to waste in the near future!

And Gandalf had just finished cleaning Shadowfax's sheath when Pippin and Merry came back without the wood for the fire. Boromir and Aragorn had also come back without water for the fire and Frodo came back without Sam or his mirthril armor. 

"Yes, um…I just needed to spit shine some equipment," said Merry when an angry Gandalf addressed them.

"Yes, his sheath!" said Pippin trying to make up a fast excuse. Before Gandalf could grimace and call them both dirty little perverts they were in a state of giggles. It was at that time Legolas and Gimli came back arguing over the fact that not all people who ride dressage are gay. "Not that there's anything wrong with having an alternative yearning and desire for the same gender," quoted Legolas at length. They had brought wood and the water so the rest of the company was saved from the torment and wrath of the angry wizard.

"Ok, fine Gimli," said Legolas, "let's see what a real male species can do! Shall we compete?"

"We have no ring nor equipment nor judge," stated Gimli, "is that not obvious. We're in the middle of no where!"

"We will ride anyway, only a true rider could do that and keep a firm hold upon the reins! I will take Bill and you shall take Shadowfax."

At the competition with no judge nor equipment nor ring nor any grooming boxes nor clippers to shave that hair that constantly fell into both riders faces nor helmit nor…

"Ok, Gimli! Loosen up those thighs a bit, your too stiff. What are you? A dwarf or something? Oh, yes, I forgot,

You post like your constipated, sit up a bit and don't look so much like your about to go over a fifty foot jump, this is balance seat, not hunter jumper competition.

Come on, I want a line between your heels, pelvis, and sholders, don't lean and don't let em' pull ya'! Keep those elbows locked but giving and don't tense.

Half halt now and make Shadowfax bend to you and come round.

Gimli? You half halt like a girl! Who's riding who? Stretch those legs a bit and soften on your contact.

Damn it! Forward forward forward! Your going flat! Shadowfax can't possibly put any weight on the hind quarters if you don't give him some head. He's fighting you because you're such a crap rider! Who's gonna win? The thousand pound horse or the 400-pound dwarf? 

Come on, nice and steady contact. He needs you to collect him! 

Look, your gonna need some desperate lounge lessons or something because your posting from your thighs and not your seat. Ok, try doing a nice sitting trot or something and we'll discuss what the hell you can't do right.

Ok, so, about how much weight does the horse carry naturally on it's forehand? About 60 percent stupid! What you need to do is make him carry that weight in back instead of front. Even it out, you get it? Now, you ask how to do that! That's what exercises do. I'll want you to come to the inside along the long side and go back out before you get to the corner. He'll need you to help him by using your natural aids seeing as we don't have any artificial aids. Now, another factor, you need to supple longitudinally and laterally but we'll discuss that later. You can try going over some ground pole but wait! We don't have any ground poles! We're in the middle of nowhere! 

It's all in your seat my Gimli, that's what makes the rider as oppose to the 'sit back and go for a pony-rider'. You can't be posting correctly also if you have your feet way out in front of you. You desperately need to keep em' behind and that makes all the difference in the world. 

Plenty of serpentines and stuff ought to do the trick, and some nice ten-meter circles in the corners. Also try the circle-in stuff that I taught you where you start at the 30-meter circle and work in at C and A. Hey, this is dressage, it's like watching paint dry? What did you expect? You can't possibly hit the exciting stuff until you learn the basics. It's only common sense that you most likely don't have."

Of course, Gimli didn't answer him for he was in a very large amount of pain at the moment and refused from then on to take any more lessons from the all knowing elf.

"Ok, whatever!" he managed to squeak out before he slipped off the saddle landing harshly on the ground with a thud. His fingers were blistered from holding the reins and he remained in an odd gate for the rest of the day in order to avoid any pain.

Ok! Next chappie coming soon if I get any more reviews stating that you found this a total waste of time. Here goes my unfit state of hyperactive spasm of the strange unknown urge to temporarily wound anyone who claims to like morgans better then thoroughbreds. Please, refrain from reading the next part if your little eyes cannot take any ungodly language, oh, this is what one gets if you really piss me off like I told you I would.

Ok, my peoples who read this and told me they don't like it—no one is freakin' forcing you to read it so give it up. Personally, I think this riding stuff is way above your head to begin with, no fingers being pointed. If you freakin' want to add a freakin' comment please tell me what you don't like about it, I don't really give a damn if you think it's bad since half of it is way above your head in the first place. Well, some people may understand more of it then other people who are too inept and stuck-up and too high in the clouds to pull themselves back to a freakin' reality here! Well, riding for me has always been a release of stress so I can't speak for everyone if I don't even agree with my own philosophy. I am mighty glad to waste your time but you probably learned at least something since you are too you to begin with and that makes absolutely no sense so I'm loosing my train of thought and will probably end up drifting into outer space soon so I better stop before I hurt myself from yelling at the underprivileged individuals. 

Damn, I am really mean when I want to be! By the way, Man O' War kicks ass.


	3. For Love of the Writer

Yes, Hal, your name is in neon lights. You gonna take that from Snitter? Hee hee, I'm just that evil but I'm in my Shakespearean mood today! Or I was a few hours ago. I hope this chapter is especially horribly that you can't stand it! I do hope I'm not softening you. I really need negative enforcement to write even worse chappies! Although I don't think this one will be as good because you just gave in a tiny bit, your not really as powerful as you let yourself believe. Please, don't flatter yourself and never gloat. It always ends up sticking your right up your ass so do be wary! Contradiction is present in every one of us. I'm not trying to put any pressure on you; I'm merely trying to give you advice. My next piece of advice is not to listen to insane weirdoes like myself so forget the whole premise I was aiming for. 

They pressed on with the speed of what the night could offer and halted by day. The sheath cleaning and preparations to whatnot had been done and they had supped and lingered on the sweet aroma of the roasted cooney. As night pressed they tired once more and had to halt in an attempt to set up camp. They were nearing Caradhras now and the cold was pressing on them. The air, though slow moving, became thin. They stayed steady at that point and set watch over the remainder of the company. 

Legolas took first watch. He looked upon the sunny day in hopes that time would press by quicker then it had. They were weary and exhausted from the past day and time was pressing closer to the waking hour when they would have to once more fear the foreboding paths. 

Gimli stayed by him in attempts to make the worrisome elf more at peace. No such luck, Legolas was not in high spirits and he also knew time was pressing too close, far too close.

"Aye, Gimli, what have you come to me for? You should be sleeping now should you not? The day is ending."

"I could not for fear of the unknown. Elves are not dwarves and they have not such fear of the passing of time. It is natural for them but not for others."

"So, what do you wish to converse about? I can give you some more riding technique skills to study."

"You know, Legolas, as well as I that there are reasons why elves ride and dwarves dwell in mountains. The very frame of the dwarf is different then such frame of an elf. But that is not my concern at present. I wished to talk to you about an issue in my mind. It has been growing ever more and I do fear it."

"You are a dreamer Gimli, make no mistake of that. But I will listen if you will tell."

Gimli looked deeply into Legolas' eyes for the first time and realized he was being enveloped in them. They were slowly making way for the dwarf, deep into the heart of Legolas. And yet, it was such a simple pleasure, being lost in the eyes. He could not fathom the way the elf appealed to his taste. He could not quite understand anything at the moment.

Gimli continued to stare into the elf's eyes until Legolas moved away, shielding himself from the dwarf.

"What is it you wish to talk of?" He said as he continued to edge his way off the log. Gimli sat down by him and he moved away once more till he was on the edge of the fallen tree.

"It is a feeling I have. It binds me to a certain individual." Gimli leaned over to rest his head again Legolas and Legolas fell off the log completely.

"Oh Legolas," Gimli cried in happiness and suddenly fell down on top of Legolas. He began kissing him incessantly and Legolas squirmed beneath the weight of the short fat little dwarf.

"Eww, you sick twisted little pervert! Get off of me this instant! I say! I demand you release me at once or I will be angered!"

Legolas could feel Gimli breathing down his shirt. He closed his eyes in attempts to be rid of everything he was surrounded with. He wished to be back at home, safe and unharmed. Why was Gimli doing this? Why would he deliberately try to hurt him in such a manner?

But his thoughts were completely and utterly interrupted when something came down from the sky onto they vulnerable little heads. Ok, fine, they actually spotted it before it came crashing through the branches onto their thick little skulls. 

"Look up in the sky, it's a bird it's a plane, no! It's…"

And before they could finish assuming what it was, four individual shapes came down upon their campsite. Gimli was knocked out cold much to Legolas' relief.

"What are you? Who are you?" Legolas demanded and picked up Gimli's ax to threaten the new comers with it.

"Oh, nothing to worry sir! We are just passer byes. Transients if you will. Do not be afraid," the first person cooed to him in a soothing manner that sounded more like a nail scratching a chalk bored.

"Yes, sir! We do not mean to be interrupting anything, we just felt like um, dropping by!" said the second one and laughed then at her utterly stupid pun.

"I personally don't know what the hell I'm doing here and I would be more happy to leave right now then anything," said a boy who was about the age of sixteen or so.

"I have always wanted to come here and I am so delighted to meet you!" said the last one. She was a cheery little red head and dimples on her cheeks.

"I would be me, the writer," said the first one again. She was a little under average height with mossy brown hair and colorless plum eyes, "please, I love to be referred to as Picket Fence but you may call me Mopsy if you like."

"And you may refer to me as Popsy," the second one joked, "no, I'm just kidding, please, do call me Trisana."

"And Betty Mon although I am called Snitter most of the time."

"And you can call me a big pain in the ass, but please, to make things straight, just call me Hal."

"And I am Legolas Greenleaf," said Legolas to the newcomers, "what business or errand do you have in this country?"

"Well, I have summoned myself and a few faithful reviewers to join me on a quest to help you on your journey," said Mopsy. 

"Now, personally I would rather go stick my bottom in a vat of boiling liquid lava but I like the look of you people and I perceive you as no threat," said Legolas, "where do you come from?"

"In a place far far away, in Camelot!" said Trisana.

"Aye," said Legolas for he did not quite know what that was about for he didn't understand anything these foreigners were talking about. Never the less, he would let what would happen in the future come and see if these humans were to be trusted. But such will be saved for later chapter coming the day when all will be explained in do course.

Ok, can we say not exciting and horribly stupid people? Damn, that's what you get for not pissing me off Hal. Yes, weird idea to resort to using my reviewers in my story but hey! It's never been done so far as I've seen so why not? No, I'm not some strange stalker, I just ran out of negative enforcement so this is what results from no inspiration, a true disaster, I do hope I've even doubly wasted peoples time today. Sorry to disappoint those who were hoping for something more interesting. I'll write a really good chappie asap!


	4. Say No Last or Up Your Ass

Hee hee! I feel so loved! Where's the negative inforcer? I must have scared Hal away. Darn, that bites. Battlecry, dude, cool. I wish I had a little horsie to call my own but alas! I am but a leaser, a half leaser at that! Ya, you want some action? Well, considering I've been only riding dressage, this is probably gonna be a bit soft on my part. I just did a little jumping actually last week and man did I suck! It was only like, 18 inches. I would like to blame it on the horse because, well, I really can't quite blame it on her but I can say it was and make myself feel special. Yes, we umm, don't get along that's all I can say. Hee hee, dude, people a little advice from the partially insane person, please don't write stories at midnight. That's when you get a bunch of strange ideas. Anyway, I hope to get a bit more action in this next little chappie although it's not the ten-foot logs I'm sorry. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you hated this chapter but nonetheless do review and tell me what you think. I swear that I'm gonna do the nice little jumps and stuff soon! Do have faith in me please!

"This would be Mopsy, Trisana, Snitter, and Hal," said Legolas as he introduced them one by one. Hal broke into hysteria because he was introduced last and said Legolas was racist again any male species. Yes, we did make Hal one of the gay dressage men if you are wondering.

"We have come to assist you," said Mopsy or me or you could refer to me once more as Picket Fence since Mopsy is the name I thought of at midnight when strange odd and unnatural ideas pop into my head.

"This I give to thee," she said and handed over a lounge line to Legolas and a lovely lounge whip. It was made only with the most elegant material known to man or elf with even more elegant interior to the body of the whip. Yes, you guessed it! Plastic!

Legolas unwound the lovely nylon line and held it up to his face to examine the material and the intrinsic weaving. It was white and very boring to stare at as a matter of fact but none the less, Legolas stared starry eyed and opened mouthed.

"They even have the rubber donuts on them!" said Picket for she was very proud that she knew that even if she didn't know the exact purpose it served.

"And onto thee, I give a genuine bit, made of mirthril, some say that it was forged by the dwarves," she said now handing over a loose ring snaffle to Gimli, it was really made of copper rollers on a steel base but none could tell the difference anyway. It was stainless and new and rather cheaply made but that's not quite the point.

"Aw, shucks lady, you didn't have to do that," Gimli said and then realized that he was holding one of the mildest bits in his hand. He ventured to ask now; "why not a harsher bit, crueler in the ways of man? Surely an egg-butt snaffle would have served more purpose? A doctor bristol at least? How about a slow twist even?"

"Nay Gimli, we are not here to venture with you, we are here to teach you to ride!" said Picket, "what gave you the idea that we were here to help the fellowship on the mission of the destruction of the ring?"

"Well, isn't that what most of the girls who drop from the sky are suppose to do?" said Gimli out of character.

"Oh and now you think that we're all gonna fall in love with you I suppose? Of course we're not here to help the mission. We are here merely to teach you how to ride correctly and the best ways in order to take care of your horse. By the way, what supplements are your horses on? They look pretty ratty and straggly to me. Go for Purina, Blue Seal sucks."

"Well, just on regular oats and grass and stuff, not much other than that really," said Sam.

"You are pretty dumb," said Picket out of character, "now a horse needs a balanced diet. What's the percentage of hay as oppose to grain? About 70% of a horse's food ought to be hay or roughage I believe. Now, a horse, like a person, needs a balanced diet and so forth. That's why Purina's a good choice!" Picket was now acting like a sales person for Purina mills, "and well, let's see what I have in my limited mind in terms of a diet." She began to ponder what she had learned at camp for even though she'd been riding for quite a while; she was deprived of actual knowledge that she should have gained while in the beginning stages of her riding career. That's what happens when one doesn't pay any heed. (And yes, readers, this is true; I was a deprived rider for the last five to six years or so.)

"Umm, Picket Fence, frankly, we don't care, I know you were abused as a child but I really don't give a damn. You're a sucky writer and that's enough to know. I really want to go home now if you don't mind and even if you did I demand you to return me now," said Hal with no interest was so ever in the topic.

"Hal, you're a real pain in the ass, did you know that?" said Trisana who was loosing her patients with him. She went over and kicked him between the legs and he fell over gasping for breath. He turned many lovely hues of red and Trisana, who'd memorized the crayola crayon box, began picking out each color as it past. 

"That would be about brick red right now, magenta should be coming on shortly," she said while watching him as he rolled over on the ground.

"Ok, so anyway, before I was rudely interrupted, this is for you Aragorn," Picket said and gave him a pair of spurs.

"Well, thank you my good lady," said Aragorn.

Picket blushes before realizing that not only is Aragorn taken but he was like what? Her dad's age! EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Enough said, now! Back on the road again! Some people do get bored with constant rambling! Picket thinks this all to herself in a matter of seconds.

"And this would be all the rest of your gifts," she said and threw the rest of them upon the ground. Picket realized that if she were to write about this when she got back home that she would not want to concern herself with the gift giving aspect of it. How very boring and dull, not what society was really supposed to be like.

"And, shall we sup now?" she said, "or shall we began our lessons? You will have to learn to properly manage your tack and the basic care and management of your horse. There is a lot of other boring stuff that you will have to learn but we won't teach it to you all in a day. Or at least I won't. The dressage rider may have a few things to share of constructive criticism but for now I will be your trainer. And, for the first part, we will have a bit of fun!"

With that being said, Picket whistled a merry little note that made Legolas unable to hear for the next few days. 

And now came a great steed, so great and mighty that it could only be the one, the only Throgmorton! And with such beast of cold furry and passionate gate did come another no less of a powerful beast was he, but Odd Liver! And last came the warm and compassionate horse with more human characteristic than any, by the name of Say No Last or Kiss My Ass did she go by and by that alone unless she was called by Picket herself. All were thoroughbreds obviously and high and mighty were they! No flaw could they see save for the tack in which they were attired in, such great animals with traits more like humans than humans themselves that they could not be clad in finer tack.

"And Say No Last or Kiss My Ass would be mine and mine alone," said Picket now talking with a higher dignity than anyone expected, "if any of you lay one hand upon this mare I will eat you limb from limb and bury your heart in the sands of time so that not one could recognize why the Fellowship failed. So, who wants to go first? We will be playing some games today so that I can see how crappy you guys really are."

They were quickly mounted, Gimli on Throgmorton, Legolas on Bill, Aragorn in his suave new spurs on Shadowfax. We will leave Sam out of this since he seemed to either be on top of Odd Liver or Odd Liver on top of him but we really don't want to go there. It tis but a sick field that I have ventured in!

A few ponies came to aid the rest of the fellowship out of nowhere. They were lovely little appaloosas most of them and some were paints. They were mounted all and ready to do battle but before they could say a word, Picket handed each of them a polo stick and commanded them to get the feel of it with out knocking their little ponies head's off. They did as they were commanded. The adrenaline was just beginning to pump within each of them. They felt so loose so high and mighty! And Picket gave the order.

They waved their sticks high in the air and now with a bloodthirsty battle scream, they charged at the unknowing object that still lay upon the ground, unknowing and unaware of the current situation. Ruthlessly and mercilessly did they come upon the creature and waved and beat their sticks wherever flesh showed. And the beating became rhythmic and bloody chanting was heard in an undertone while they thrust their sticks with as much force and agility that could indeed be mustered. It grew and became louder and louder and suddenly it was heard rumbling through the forest. The very earth underfoot did not slow as the chanting became longer and lower and more deviant and chaotic. At length the stopped beating upon the object that was to serve as their polo ball only to realize that they had made a large mistake.

"OH MY GOD! You killed Hal!" cried Snitter as she tried to hide her polo stick behind her back pretending not to be involved in such ritual.

"That was murder!" cried Trisana as she looked upon the wreckage of what was Hal at one time. Blood was oozing from him and he looked sickly pale.

"Oh, no he is not dead. I'm the writer, I can bring him back to life!" said Picket happily, "no one dies in my story, they just get really bad booboos." Of course, when Hal did not wakeup they all presumed him dead.

"Awwww, too bad," they all looked at their hands for a second not really realizing what they had done; the truth hurt far too much. They felt terrible for about three seconds and that was the longest three seconds of their lives before they asked if anyone wanted to play egg and spoon.

Ok, well, that was a bit blood thirsty on my part. I really shouldn't have read Lord of the Flies twice. It's a great book, especially the scene at the end when all the boys are hunting Ralph down. I know that book got my adrenalin pumping sorry if you really hated this chapter, I just felt like killing someone who really meant a lot to me. No harm done is what I say! Yes, I'm sure that was not quite the umm, fun four foot fence stuff that you were hoping for but that'll be coming pretty soon. Oh, and Doctor Bristols are my favorite bit and they kick almost as much ass as my former mount Say Yes First. Yes, that is naturally where I got the name of Say No Last or Kiss My Ass if anyone really cares. I promise to have next chappie be a bit more of the fun stuff. It may not be correct as much as my dressage but I still remember the thrill. I'm looking forward to really working on my jumping in the near future. I'll try to make it as detailed as possibly and once again I'm sorry if you hated this chapter. Do tell me what you think though. 

Next chappie is coming soon with more fun thrill than ever hopefully. Yes, I drool too when realizing the menacing 10 foot logs are near. Get me out on a cross-country course and give me a good helmit! Then you'll see what I think I can do (without killing myself hopefully)!


	5. Six Feet Under and Ten Feet Up

I am sorry for the lateness of this chappie. I had to actually think this time about what would be funny and hopefully I didn't fail you. I did find ideas that I thought were unique so I really hope you don't hate this chapter.

****

Oh, and just to warn you people, the rating is slightly going up although I didn't change it. Sorry if this isn't funny but I think it is, of course, what do I know? Anyway, tell me if you think please: should I drop the attempt to be funny? I'm sorry if I sound very perverted, I'm not but you may think differently, way differently I should say. I hope none of you find this offensive and take pity on me since I really do hope you like this chappie. Once again R and R PLEASE and tell me if I should drop this style or not, I do hope I'm not disappointing you since this one is different. Yes, I did put the ten foot logs in but you may not like it that much since well…I really don't know if you will or will not so just tell me what you think. Oh, and since you probably know more than I do about jumping, I will let you correct me on whatever I might have messed up but do be nice about it please. I am still the writer so whatever you say can and will be used against you.

And they had started their training already in the cold whether while heading to the daunting mountain of Caradhras. It was at this time that, naturally a little romance started to brew but we will talk about that in a second. Just know that we are heading to the mountain where they shall all fail even if they have Say No Last Or Up Your Ass to guide them. 

"Ok, people, now we shall discuss a vital piece that many fail to notice in the world of horses!" Picket addressed the not attentive crowd who had started to clean tack and spit-shine their daggers and sheaths.

"This problem is VPL!" she shouted atop of everyone else with as commanding a voiced as she could maintain, "now, you all know what problems VPL create don't you?"

"What?" said Sam as he stopped picking the earwax out of his ear to listen to her complaints about this matter of non-importance. 

"VPL, commonly referred to as Visible Panty Line," she said defining with high significance, "now, it comes to the problem and the perfect solution!"

With this all the men belonging to the fellowship looked up. This was a very odd problem that they had never thought of fixing. Perhaps they believed it was more attractive or something. Nevertheless, it was a difficulty that needed adjustment.

And so, to fix this problem, Picket Fence, out of nowhere, pulled seven thongs out of her pack and threw them to each member of the fellowship and ordered them to put it on. Trisana pulled Legolas to the side to ask if he needed help putting it on. Unlike his usual nature, he agreed and they ran off into the woods together for a bit. Snitter asked if Frodo needed any help and he agreed. Picket Fence was now left alone with Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Gandalf, and the three hobbits. Now she desperately wished that Hal was there to be at her aid but alas, Hal was unfortunately deceased.

"Damn it, damn it! Gosh darn tootin' it!" she shouted in dismay while she checked each of them off one by one: Aragorn- taken, Boromir- croaks, Merry and Pippin- can't tell them apart so why bother?, Gimli- ewww!, Gandalf- is gay (literally, yes, he is, the actor is as straight as crooked stick), Sam- didn't get a thong in the first place.

Finally, she made up her mind, "Mr. Pockets!" she shouted to her invisible friend that she made up in the first year of kindergarten. With that she ran off into the woods all by her lonesome to do business with only god knows what. After about five minutes, everyone was fitted to their lovely thongs and were finally ready to be trained properly. Sam, who felt rejected for not the first time in his life, made a thong out of rope and attempted to put it on. He would have many problems in later sporting event by wearing such article of clothing but for now he felt unfashionably sexy to everyone's chagrin. It was then that Snitter began to sing the thong song and everyone joined in while Picket Fence attempted to grind with no one there. Of course, being that I have never heard the thong song or have, but don't remember the lyrics, they all switched to 'I like big butts':

I like big butts; you know I can't lie, 

All you other brothas' can't deny, 

When a girl walks in with an itty-bitty waste

And a round thing in your face you get… FEELING! Sang Picket Fence also spoiling this song since she didn't know the rest of the words.

It was then that Sam was having a bit too good of a time and got the booze and started drinking, cussing, and stripping to more of everyone's vexation. They brought him down and started beating his head with the polo sticks from earlier and now singing the ritual chanting to 'another one bites the dust'. Before they could continue this bloody horrible atrocity of great fun, their new trainers stopped them abruptly.

"Your acting like a bunch of buffoons or all little Sams for that matter, please don't stoop to his level," Picket cried out.

They all got up from torturing poor Sam and mounted their great steeds or at least Throgmorton and Odd Liver because Shadowfax is just too non-studish to be considered a steed. Yes, he must have been gelded at a very young age just like Sam. It is miraculous that he, Sam, ever had children. His wife probably felt bad and had an affair with Pippin or Merry in order to have that many children. Either way, Sam must have not pleased her in the leased. "'Tis the Took side of this perplexing matter even if Buckland does make one liberal" doth quote Madame Blueberry (Trisana if you please). Anyway, Shadowfax was not a very good stud if he could ever be considered a stud. IT was probably too small in the first place anyway, of course, only Sam would notice such thing. While he was in this contemplation, which was probably not what we think he was contemplating about no matter how much we wish it to be, something again fell from aloft onto Sam's soft, vulnerable head. And yes, you guessed it! It was the legendary Hannah clothed in a fine red jacket getting ready for the foxhunt that was taking place that after noon. Of course, being the fact that she was in Middle-earth with horses. Naturally she felt right at home had Picket Fence not been so envious towards her. Picket had never gone on a foxhunt and was immediately jealous. You must see that no one should know more than the author and if they do, they are penalized for being so darn smart. Of course, we cannot batter poor lovely smart intelligent Hannah with polo sticks so they were unfortunate to have to stick with her through the duration. And yes, I am being facetious. 

Actually, Picket Fence and Hannah got into an in-depth conversation about the positive and negative attributes of the drug Premarin which is a drug prescribed to women to treat postmenopausal symptoms. (I have attached my Premarin term paper to the bottom, which is why this is so long. Please don't read it if you find the first sentence boring because, frankly, the whole thing is boring (though fun to write) even if it is fun to bore people)

And with that, they settled in to have the first actual lesson of training which, yes once again you guessed it even before it came out of my fingers and typed onto this lovely new computer screen, a cross-country course!

Picket's fingers tensed on the reins for a brief second and her mount barred against the pressure, not succumbing to the poor and girly half halt that now attempted to engulf the horse in a desperate attempt to not run fifty miles an hour. Say Yes First would not have it so. She evaded the bit, which as a lovely pellum, and ran head long to the base of the first jump. Her head was basically in Picket's lap and she flew over the first jump, leaving the lovely dressage rider behind. She gripped to the neck of the great mare while she rounded the next turn and took the water jump. Slowly she sat up but her cumbersome horse would not once again give into her fervent half halts. Now they were at a fence. Picket fence was desperately wishing that she wasn't such a show off and had worn her helmet. Say No was at a hand gallop now as she easily made it down the grassy knoll to the next set of three naturally logs only about three and a half feet each and set about three strides apart.

Picket felt her stomach lurch up and down but the feeling was coming back. So slowly and so steadily, she grew used to the feeling of flying over the land at such uneasy pace. She half feel out of hearing of anyone save her horse and her own thoughts. She squeezed one rein and began to rehearsed a poem she always said when she was in a state of dilemma or deep concentration:

"…Of forgotten thoughts of dreams had past,

Had once again refilled me, 

Awakened me, and revived me from a life, 

Still and silent, bending beneath my weight, 

And breaking."

She took all three of the logs fitting only one stride between them whereas she was penalized for doing so. She let the weight rock back onto Say No's haunches as she cantered collectively to the next jump. They were communicating for not the first time in their lives but Picket never realized the worth of her now jumping phenomenon even though she had been trained as a hunter jumper the first few years of her life. She grew and eased to the bit as she rocked to and fro from one leg to the next on her back, using the strength in her back to flow while she pushed off with her hind over the next.

The feeling came naturally as though, indeed forgotten in the depth of a great abyss. Picket no longer lurched to each stride that her horse took but bent and aimed for each the next possible move. Timing had become rhythmic and she bobbed her head slightly to the first step of the gate. One, two, three… one two three.

She felt a deep joy when for that one split second, she realized that all four points of the horse were completely off the ground and she was almost sailing over the world. But once again landed to the ground, adrenalin still pumping wildly as she let loose her arms again to fly over the next set of jumps. She stood in her half seat or two point (whichever one prefers) but she didn't even realize she was in it. She hung backward suddenly on the landing and once again sat deeply with in her seat as she drove to the next. And she did drive as she neared it, extending the canter slightly with her seat releasing her elbows so that Say No could once again take that fence without being popped in the mouth. The fun ended too soon. 

They neared a fence and Picket, not paying attention to the fact that she was sitting too far forward in the saddle urged the mare on only to misjudge the distance. Say No, also misjudging it until the last possible second, did a lovely sliding stop that lurched the poor slightly experienced jumper forward. The mare then decided that the jump was not so discouraging and decided to take it anyway. Straight from the halt she jumped the three and a half inch water jump, pushing with all her weight to the hind and taking the jump. It all took place in slow motion, her front legs going roughly but gracefully over and her strong hind end following. She landed in the center of the mud pile bucking.

Picket was not so fortunate to survive this last jump. She had been laying flat against her neck when she came down and could do nothing to gain her balance back.

Up! She flipped right over the head, landing on her just dry-cleaned breeches and field boots into the fuggy murky mud. Say No took off at a slow canter, spraying mud all over Picket while she sat on the ground. She did another buck as she went gracefully over the last jump, the braided reins still hanging on her neck while she stretched out her full length, extending her legs their full length. 

Picket was then more embarrassed then ever when she was then yelled at for not taking three strides in-between the fences and for letting the horse do all the work.

Ok, people, that is my chapter and I do hope I didn't shatter your lovely visions of a perfect three phase. There are the great ten-foot logs disguised as three and a half feet. So maybe it's not politically correct but I think I had the feeling and emotion all right even though I don't rehearse poems while I'm going over fences. Plus I can't think of anything that is politically incorrect but you may find a different feeling when going over the fences. Please tell me what you feel or your opinion of going over fences, since this is what I find when I'm not quite on the ground. I hope I didn't disappoint any of you. Oh, and this coming up would be the premarin report thing I did for school. I am sorry for those who support Wyeth-Ayerst and disagree with the whole idea of them abusing their poor little horsies.

The Premarin Industry

Premarin is a drug prescribed by doctors to treat symptoms of menopause in women. To manufacture Premarin, estrogen is taken from pregnant horses. PMU, the main component for Premarin, stands for pregnant mares' urine. Is the Premarin Industry abusive to these mares? Wyeth-Ayerst, the pharmaceutical company that manufactures Premarin, denies this and claims that their horses are not mistreated. There are many alternatives to this drug yet Premarin remains a leading therapeutic for treating menopause. 

Wyeth-Ayerst, a division of American Home Products (AHP), is the company that developed Premarin 52 years ago (Michelle 2). Premarin is one of the most prescribed drugs in the United States and has taken in around $1.9 billion dollars during the past year. It is the third most prescribed drug in the world. Unlike drugs that are made synthetically, Premarin is derived from PMU. Premarin and related drugs are used to help pre-menopausal symptoms such as osteoporosis, hot flashes, and heart disease (Pascoe 1). The drug is also prescribed to young girls who lack the correct amount of estrogen in order to go through puberty. Over 27,000,000 women suffer from osteoporosis in North America. There are about 8,000,000 who take Premarin (American 12).

Estrogen and progesterone are the two hormones made in the ovaries, a gland found exclusively in women. Estrogen is needed to help many organs function properly and is present in the uterus (Redmond 56).

Conjugated estrogen, or natural estrogen, can either be made synthetically or naturally in the body. There is a type of estrogen called a synthetic steroid. This type of estrogen is unconjugated and has a different affect on cholesterol, lipoproteins (structure of proteins and fats), and the enzymes produced in the liver. Unconjugated estrogens are not as popular as equine estrogen but are much stronger. Not much research has been done on Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRP), and it is important to take the correct amount of estrogen (Utian 175). For example, a result of taking more estrogen than needed is an endoderm reaction. This is when the lining in the uterus becomes extremely thick and may eventually lead to cancer in the uterus (211). 

There is one form of estrogen in conjugated equine estrogen (CEE) that is foreign to women. It is called equilin and is derived from the mares. No negative or positive results have been found from taking this estrogen but little is known about it (Redmond 451).

Even with the new research and development being made in laboratories, the customer still relies heavily on Premarin. The reason behind this is simple: Premarin has been on the market longer than any other drug prescribed to fight the effects of menopause. This makes the doctors more familiar with Premarin (Pascoe 2). 

PMU farms are located in Western Canada and in parts of the United States. There are over 460 farms in Alberta, Manitoba, and Saskatchewan, three provinces of Canada. Thirty-one farms are situated in North Dakota. The North American Equine Ranches Information Council (NAERIC) owns most of these farms ("PMU" 1). Farms are also located in Brandon, Canada.

The PMU mares are bred starting in June and ending between July and August. When they are four months pregnant, their estrogen level is high (Davies 1). They are confined in their stalls for about five months. Water is rationed in small amounts only at certain times during the day in order to concentrate their urine. "Liver and kidney diseases are common in these horses" ("Premarin (PMU) Industry" 2). The mares are connected to a funnel that is hung from the ceiling. Some reports state that these mares can move a few feet in any direction and lie down. Others state differently. 

In 1990 there was general uproar by many who said that these horses were being treated inhumanely. Since then, the ranchers have had to set 'minimal standards for care'. This means that the mares must be provided the proper exercise, food, and water. There are inspectors that visit the farms regularly to see that no inhumane treatment is taking place. Not all groups agree with the premise of these inspections and state: 

[The ranches are required to give] 'as much exercise as needed for the mares' welfare but leaves ranchers free to determine how much that is. . . The industry is mostly self-policed because the ranchers hire the veterinarians and the drug manufacturer hires the inspectors. Other concerns include a high mortality rate among the foals born unattended in the pastures ("PMU Controversy" 2).

NAERIC claims to have at least 30,000 horses involved in the production of Premarin. This number is varied and has been estimated to be as high as 45,000 to 80,000 according to groups opposing the use of PMU. Rumors state that one-forth of the mares are replaced every year. 

Despite reports that suggest no inhumane treatment has taken place, the truth is still unknown. Many people still contradict Wyeth-Ayerst and their business. Equine Advocates state a fact that is not addressed by other related articles:

The urine pouches. . . by which they are attached to. . . can cause infections of their vulvas and chafing of their legs. . . [The mares] are forced to sleep in a cramped position. . . There is no official government regulation for the treatment of PMU mares, only a "Code of Practice" written by Wyeth-Ayerst for the PMU farmers to follow. ("Premarin (PMU) Industry" 1)

Other reports from former employees have commented on the condition of the mares' treatment but cannot be proven. The claims addressed by the former workers include the brutal treatment of the horses and the poor conditions in which they lived. The employees stated that the mares, repeatedly impregnated, are often beaten and not given adequate nutrition and healthy exercise. 

The foals are born in May or June and weaned in early September. Foals normally spend 4 to 6 months after they are born with their mother. Thousands of the foals are sold in private auctions, many are sold to meat markets in or destined to go to Asia and Europe. About 10% of the foals go to the slaughterhouse ("Premarin and Animal" 2). The fillies that are not sold to slaughter or auctioned will be used in the production of Premarin. NAERIC claims that two-thirds go to homes where they are cared for properly. But what of the other one-third most likely sold at the auctions? What makes the fortunate two thirds any different than the ones sold for slaughter? This issue is not embellished when addressed. 

Groups in opposition to the monopoly that Wyeth-Ayerst has created with the manufacture of Premarin include People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA), American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), and the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS). Some organizations buy PMU foals from auctions. These include Ipswich Equine Rescue and the United Pegasus Foundations in Arcadia. 

There are many alternatives to Premarin. Raloxifene is proven to help fight osteoporosis. Fosamax® is designed to fight this disease as well and has no positive or negative effect on other tissues (Pascoe 3). Estrance is the second most widely prescribed drug, made by Mead Johnson. Estriol, Estrone, Estovis, and Estropipate are forms of estrogen as well and used in hormone replacement therapy ("PMU Controversy" 2).

Unlike Raloxifene, Premarin is reported to have risks leading to certain kinds of cancer such as breast cancer and uterine cancer. Raloxifene is used to fight osteoporosis and is proven to protect the cardiac muscle. Premarin as mentioned before, contains many unidentified substances. People still do not know the long-term side effects of Premarin. However, despite the positive affects of Raloxifene, many doctors would not prescribe Raloxifene because it increases the occurrence of blood clots and is not as effective as Premarin on bone buildup (Pascoe 3).

Development of a synthetic alternative to Premarin would provide an advantage for patients, physicians, and the equine industry. Additional research will provide an opportunity for other effective therapeutics. 


	6. Boyfriends Are Always Second

At that point in time, Sam came out of the woods, his pants still bunched at the hips by the homemade thong. Picket looked over at him and laughed scornfully, snickering to herself about what a stupid pervert he could be. He smiled back at her, mistaking her laugh as a friendly one.

Say No grazed near by as he approached Picket. She put her ears forward and stopped her eating for a brief period. Then, on realizing it was only Sam, she put her ears back and turned her body so her back end faced the two. She continued to graze on the dry grass.

"Milady, we are nearing the Mountain Caradhras now and I just wished to know your course of action. Will you come whilst we wonder on so dark and foreboding a trail or prefer to depart?"

"Sam!" Picket cried shooked with what she just heard, "why of course, we're coming. At least until we know you can actually maintain the health and wellness of your horse! We still haven't gone over first aid and the wrapping, and all that jazz. Then we need to discuss the 'salon' aspect with grooming, clipping, mane pulling and yada yada yada. And not to mention the need to have a farrier come do their feet."

Sam couldn't take this much longer. No more could he sustain himself, to bend to this great and cumbersome weight threatening to engulf him. He grabbed Picket by both wrists and dragged her off into the woods. Night was just coming and cast eerie serene shadows about the two as the trees seemed to entwine about their oblong shadows.

Picket was muttering incoherently about the braiding techniques in the mane and tail while she was half dragged and half staggering along behind Sam. Sam was not listening of course the poor chap! For you see, Sam really doesn't give a damn about inhand training and isn't as superficial and bisexual as we try to make ourselves believe.

When they reached a clearing, Sam turned to her. Their eyes met for a brief second before he strode over and planted a kiss on her lips.

She backed up a few feet, not truly realizing what had just happened and tripped over a root, landing flat on her bottom. CREAKY-CRACK!

"Oh!" she cried in dismay upon realizing what the creaky-crack meant. She had split her breeches! Of all the times to do so and such thing could only happen to her.

Sam held out a hand to help her up but she was now so deep in contemplation and embarrassment to even think about getting back up.

Sam crouched down beside her and again their eyes, one pair of brown eyes and one the color that sort of looked like what one picks out of their horse's hoof. Leaning over, he kissed her soothingly now, upon the lips. She made no reply for she was still in deep contemplation considering her current situation.

He kissed her again more harshly this time, trying with eager attempt to get more recognition. His tongue was now delving into her mouth, searching for a response.

"Ewwy-ek!" she cried only half audible to him. Yes, it was probably not the response he wished to hear but nevertheless, he could not delay himself any longer. He now pressed her against his chest now with more hard and spontaneous kissing than before. She wriggled in his arms, now wondering how Gollum had escaped him in the book since she had always depicted Sam as the certain stupid character, no offense to Tolkien and hopefully none taken.

He was now exploring her in more ways than carter has liver pills, no, please don't ask, just a metaphor, nothing more nothing less.

"What a dense little hobbit!" she thought to herself, "why does he not realize that the horse will always come first in my life? The boyfriend is only second best." But Sam would not have cared since he was used to being the underdog.

Now, he tried to umm, well, we'll try to keep this to a minimum people, parent STRONGLY cautioned. What you are about to read my lovely people is what I came up with when attempting to not try to be a perverted sounding person (which I'm really not) but slightly failed. This umm, is just a little scene and I hope it isn't that bad. Oh and also, I've decided to drop out of the picture completely and now all that's left is some sort of incompetent person who isn't me but has my exact name. I could not bare the humiliation of ever doing umm, anything with Sam. 

With devoted passion, Sam attempted to undo her attire only to realize that buttons and zippers were far more complex than anything he'd ever seen before and this confused his poor little brain. Picket laughed suddenly but not with malice or a feeling of loathing. She suddenly had the impulsion to throw off her luxurious garments for some unknown and inexplicable reason. 

Picket grabbed at his cloak while he drew kisses down her neck. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she kissed him sweetly for the first time. In response he lifted up slightly from the light pressure exerted on his shoulders so as she could slide farther under his body. She slowly slid her hands up and down his chest now and he tensed. He faltered for a brief second and then went back to kissing her. Smiling to herself momentarily, she undid his belt and shirt. He'd still been working at her shirt with no success. 

Now he crouched over her body, half nude and not half as unshapely as she had figured. She vaguely wondered if even Legolas could compare to his abdominal muscles for they were more impressive than any would have figured. She was delighted at this knowledge and she cried out in joy suddenly when he finally figured out how to get the first button undone. He looked at her curiously and she just smiled up at him with an innocent look on her face. He smiled back down at her.

"I love you," he said as he rubbed his nose with hers' and then kissed her. She giggled and kissed him back. Finally the last button was undone and she also sat half nude under his powerful and incredibly gorgeous body. She blushed and laughed joyously again. She tried to sit up but he once again pushed her back down on the soft earth, still kneeling over her delicate body while she lay there and contemplated his next move. He kissed her again, now pushing his body against hers', his bottom torso grinding into her. She gave a shriek of pain and happiness and accidentally bit his lip. He smiled through the throbbing pain and continued to push himself onto her till all his weight was on her. 

Happiness spread about her and she began now to work on his pants but her fingers were shaking from the pressure and the utter contentment. Finally she succeeded, as did he.

"Are you positive?" Sam asked her, "I will love you no matter the outcome."

She smiled to him and pushed her body up against his. He sank down to deliver yet another kiss onto her lips. She kissed him back before she said to him this:

"No, actually, I'm not ready. I guess I'll see you around then?" With that, she got out from under him and grabbed her clothes. She threw them on hurriedly and stalked off.

Dude! Am I an innate evil person or what? Ok, once again, I do hope you liked this chapter though it had no relevance to horsie world and I promise to address it next chapter so once again, do bare with me. In fact, it basically doesn't establish anything in this story. I also apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I really hoped you liked this though since I had fun with it although I would never consider doing something like that with Sam. EWWWWW! Enough said huh? Anyway, me very odd, feeling very odd at least right now. Having temporary insanity spasms which basically mean I am head over heels for someone not that that has anything in relation to this story. I'm gonna go to the mall and get lots o' nice pretty clothes that kind of say 'Me coming out,' while also saying 'look but do be nice when handing'. Yes, that does sound slutty but no, I be good, very good. Mr. Buddlebum!


	7. Water Moccasin

Poor Sam my bottom end! Anyway, that's all I have to say. In bad mood right now. Sorry for not updating in the century, well, not really, just been very busy lately. Whatever, nothing more for me to waste your time talking about so we'll begin.

Snitter and Hannah were in a deep conversation regarding something or other while Merry and Pippin, who didn't understand a thing they were talking about, listened with interest. Trisana and Legolas were off doing something or other that no one wants to know or hear about. It was at this point with no significance that Picket came back, furious by god only knows what. No one asked and no one wanted to really think about why her clothes were all askew and not buttoned up properly. She was muttering incoherently and no one wanted to pay attention to that either especially since every third word she inserted a piece of French that she undoubtedly learned from the stables long ago.

It was after Sam came back, looking like a frail pig headed weirdo who had been looking into headlights like a deer about to be hit, that another riding clinic was started. This time, the wonderful Picket fence did not host it but Snitter, who was trying to teach Frodo how to ride the half seat without looking too constipated. When that failed to go over well, she insisted that Frodo should take his shirt off in order to see his position.

"Baggy clothes are never good to ride in," she quoted as Frodo handed her his shirt. Trisana had suddenly found this opportunity to her advantage.

"Leggy boy!" she tried to call to him elegantly only to realize that she still couldn't scream on key, "you heard what nice little Snitter said did you not? Go ahead, take it off!" Legolas, who was riding Throgmorton, reluctantly took his tunic off to reveal his lovely abdominal muscles. Both Hannah and Trisana were overcome with this sight of the half naked elf and began to act like ditzy little girls about the age of seven. With Trisana's intelligence, that was actually a compliment but we shan't linger on such a small fact that seemed to determine her whole life.

So, now we have Legolas and Frodo riding without their shirts on during that cold windy day. While they were riding, Hannah found a paper shredder in the bushes and Sam lying next to it, unconscious and seemed to be in a state of shock. Despite the obvious clue that Sam probably was not ok, Hannah decided to use the paper shredder to her advantage and ignore the fact that Sam was not breathing correctly.

Frodo and Legolas, the poor chaps, didn't have a shirt for the next leg of that journey and were starting to get rather cold and desperate for warmth. After they began to get frostbite, Picket and Trisana decided to give up one pair of their many warm and comfy polar fleece shirts. Frodo and Legolas were much relieved.

Ok, well, the lovely new arrivals weren't giving up any number of their lovely polar fleece shirts right away so before they gave it up, Frodo and Legolas were fighting over the shirt they ripped off Sam's back while he lay asleep.

Sam woke up and realized that Boromir and Gimli were studying him in fascination. He felt cold and a chill went down his spine. Later on, the fellowship realized that they still had a mission to accomplish that they had not already accomplished in regards to the one ring of power. So, in conclusion, they decided they better head the Caradhras before they were caught by the Ring Wraths. Of course, Hannah wanted them to see what a real hunter jumper looked like and she advocated that they stay and learn something from these creature;

"Especially because they don't ride like constipated weirdoes…" she went on to say, almost mocking the fellowship's riding skill. Ok, she was completely dissing the fellowship's riding ability but by now, everyone in the fellowship was used to now being the small fry. Especially Gimli who had his beard shredded because he was told to do a flying lead change and he didn't want to work so he kept right on going and doing a lovely counter canter.

"There is a punishment for everyone who does not follow under my rein, literally!" said Picket laughing like a diseased llama for she thought her pun was hilarious. She continued laughing like so before she realized that no one else thought her pun was in any way shape or form, to the least degree, funny. It was then that suddenly another object came from out of no where, this time not landing on Sam's poor vulnerable head. 

Cantering out from the underbrush from out of nowhere, with hooves as fleet as if walking on air, came Water Moccasin, one of Hannah's many horses that she kept on her big ranch in California. Hannah was relieved that she no longer had to ride Say No Last or Up Your Ass even though Say No Last or Up Your Ass was a wonderful, beautiful and exquisite horse, god only knows why she didn't like her as much as her own horse. Say No was a champion at being cute and adorable and so forth and so on. Perhaps it is in the mind of the owner that their horse is always the best and everyone should and will bow down to such masterful a mare.

After the training session with Frodo and Legolas who were still riding topless, they started a barn management session where they introduced everything from deep litter to the correct way sweep to the 'stall dance'. Yes, there is a stall dance. When one is at the stable during long and excruciatingly hot days, one gets bored and does things like the stall dance. But the stall dance, is by far the standard part of cleaning a stall.

(Note: A brief history on 'the stall dance'—it is made up of no melody, rhythm, style or any such sort. The stall dance is basically a really bad replica of ballerina or at least the perception of the one dancing. To dance the stall dance, one must attain a pitchfork. Once this is accomplished, you must take careful measures in seeing that no one is around. Then, once everything is clear, you simply attempt to dance in as uniformly and collectively as possible. You may prefer to sing and do so if you must. You will also be able to clean while in the process of your miraculous stall dance by doing large swoops and swings with the pitchfork. This concludes the brief history of 'the stall dance'. For further reading on it, please, don't hesitate to ask.)

The whole clinic went well until Gandalf tried to strip while doing this ancient stall dance. And of course, no one wanted to see that so they all booed him off the stage. The clipping and the mane pulling were the chief topic of the day. It would have been at least if anyone wanted to share their horse. Plus, the simple knowledge of the fact that there were no outlets in order to plug the clippers into and on top of that, there were no clippers. This trivial piece of knowledge was quite a shock to everyone. Therefore, they continued to talk about anything horse related.

"Did you know that a cow can jump three feet at a stand still?" Picket said and looked at the shocked faces of everyone who now gained this pointless piece of information.

"And duck quacks don't echo!" stated Hannah.

"And baka is a Japanese word for dumb ass," said Trisana. Everyone was impressed by this newfound way of swearing at people in different languages. 

After they talked for some while, they all sat down to go to bed. Before they went to bed, they lit a fire and talked more of anything related to the equine world. Picket began to rehearse an old saying but unfortunately forgot the rest of it only because she's too lazy to look it up:

"_One sock, ride him for you life,_

Two socks, give him to your wife,

Three socks…………………………..,

Four socks, sell him if you can!"

* * *

Sam sat down heavily on the cold dark earth. Lying back, he looked upon the stars. Their brilliance was less tonight and they seemed farther away then ever before. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Suddenly he sensed someone else standing a little distance away, gazing at him intently. He opened his eyes and peered out at the gaping black spot that dotted the forest. He could not see whoever it was but could sense the eyes and the shortness of breath. He just stared for a moment before looking away. 

Picket strode out of the darkness. She shivered in the cold night air as she approached Sam. Their eyes made no contact.

"Don't come any closer," Sam said, still not looking directly at her. She was only a few feet away.

"Why not?" Picket asked, her voice was less brisk and perky. She looked helplessly at him.

"I'm afraid if you approached me…" Sam began to say, "that I would fall in love once again… then that would only leave you my heart to break. I don't want to be in love if that is what shall happen."

Picket made no reply but strode forward boldly.

"I will not leave you a second time. I am here to help, not to do wrong. Please do listen, Sam, please. I love you and that is final." 

She crouched down besides him and looked into his eyes. They were heavy and swelled as though full of tears.

"Do you mean it?" Sam asked tensely.

"Yes, I most certainly do."

Sam kissed her on the cheek. She smiled and sat down besides him on the cold earth. He held her in his arms for warmth while they laid back and gazed at stars that were growing far brighter and more brilliant. With his arm supporting her, Picket fell asleep, head on his shoulder while the gazed further on into the endless sea of stars.

Oh, how sweet! Make me sick! I'm going to the bathroom to hurl now. No, actually I did have fun being nice to Sam, who would have guessed? I'm just full of contradictions!

One other issue I would like to address, don't worry people! Snitter and Hannah in particular, you'll get your man! Don't worry. I'm just being the vein and self-centered me (I always am) but I'll still write a lovely scene that includes you and your guys and not me! Please, I'm almost at the point when I actually have a plot! If you have any suggestions, please do tell. I do hope you liked this chapter better and I'll get into another riding session thing soon. Clinics are always educational though. I also apologize for not posting in so long! I think I'm going to change the title to something so that I can manipulate more people into my pathetically lovely and pointless story. I'll make next chapter great and even longer with more jumps! Get those reviews in and I'll be even more motivated!

Oh, one more thing, yes, I do have a stall dance.


	8. tweedle's jousting match

Oh! I feel so loved! Now my job is to make this chapter as good as the last, which I will hopefully accomplish. Yes, like many people, I write when I get lots of reviews! Motivating me really ain't that hard I guess. Don't know why it took me so long for last chapter. Probably just because of stupid school and everything. Well, that's about it. I'm a crazy nut! Did I by any chance mention that to you all? Dude, I'm like up and it's like 1:30 de la manana! Insane huh? Yes, I'd written about half of this and now I'm just editing. Ok, back to the chapter that I'm hoping to post tonight…

"Oh my," Snitter remarked as Frodo went over an oxer in perfect form, his shirt still off to her pleasure, "you're a natural dear!"

He smiled at her and she blushed rapidly.

"Damn," thought Hannah, "I don't have Leggy or Frodo! My life is over; it is no longer worth living. I think I'll go puke now for I cannot stand the sight of my love with another." She stalked off, feeling dejected and unable to express her feelings appropriately, she began to beat her head on a nearby tree while she rehearsed something by an unknown poet or at least one she didn't know;

"_He's all my fancy painted her,_

He's lovely, he's divine,

But his heart is in another, 

It never can be mine,

Oh, my heart, my heart is breaking,

For the love of…"

It was then that through the hot air of that clammy and uneventful day, did riders from some unknown place come astride on their great horses with more girth than their height (yes, the horses with more girth then height mind you, well, also the riders but we shall address that issue later).

"Somebody's been pigging out on their grain," thought Picket as she watched both horse and rider come ever nearer, wondering which one in fact was suppose to be the human and which one was suppose to be the horse.

"Hey!" shouted somebody as the riders drew closer, inch by inch for their heavy bear bellies weighed themselves down intensely. It was Snitter who had recognized these riders; "those are Aragorn's guys. The rangers!"

"I thought they were suppose to come in later on in the story," Hannah said, "when they ditch King Theoden or whatever. You know, right before they go see Eowyn after that battle thing."

Her sentence was vague but Snitter understood her instantly.

"Yes, I do agree; that is true. Who the heck is writing this story? Someone has seemed to really have messed it up MAJOR!" Both girls gazed with piercing furious eyes in the direction of Picket.

Everyone at once begins to attempt to beat Picket over the head with their polo sticks. She was able to get a hold of her lunge whip and keeps them back with vicious cracks on their calves.

"You screwed up the story you nimrod!" shouted Trisana and Snitter in unison, "who the hell do you think you are? J R R Tolkien or something?"

Picket was hit on her arm and dropped her lounge whip.

"Owwww!" she screamed, "come now! It isn't that bad. We need to deal with this issue in a civilized manner. Owwww! Jezum, who freakin' told you how to use a lunge whip… Give that to me right now before you hurt yourself." Almost magically she drew a dressage whip from behind her back and flashed it menacingly at the little devil who stole her lunge whip, Pippin.

Pippin shrieked and ran in the direction of the woods with the whip still in his hand. Sam gave him a mighty shove and he dropped it onto the muddy earth. He continued to sob as he ran on into the vast forest. Merry ran after him, calling to him gently in a soft voice.

"I still think you're an idiot," stated Snitter as she looked wildly at Picket, "I mean, the least you could have done before writing a fanfic is to read all three books."

"Well," Picket began, "I was sidetracked. I'm on the last one I swear! So you need to at least give me that much credit."

"Well, this better be good then, few have the guts to alter such story without consent of their peers," Hannah said stilled annoyed.

"Oh, believe me, my dear ladies and gentleman. It will be worth your while," Picket reassured them.

"And if not?"

"Then it will be an utter and complete waste of your time," Picket replied, "but I doubt it my dear Hannah, I firmly doubt it."

"What are you getting at?"

"Why, my story of course dear Hannah."

"Your mad!"

"Precisely."

Hannah was about to go continue on when someone taped her on her shoulder. She turned to see not one but both of Elrond's son's gazing at her.

"Oh, Elladan and Elrohir is it? So very nice to meet you indeed," she managed to squeak out before collapsing into a heap. Elladan caught her and hugged her close. She smelled the scent that lingered in his hair and vaguely wondered if they had any shampoo in those days, especially the kind he was using. It smelt pretty good. What she didn't know was that he hadn't bathed since he'd started on the trip to nowhere because some driving force called 'the writer's request' forced them to do so. Well, it was more of 'the writer's demand' so anyhow, they were forced with dire need to hurry. And now, Hannah was now in Elladan's arms as she lay gasping for air for the scent of him overwhelmed her. Ok, now I'm really getting bored with describing how good Elladan smells. Let me go spew….anyway, sorry for that interruption ladies and gentleman, we will continue.

"You stupid fag!" cried Elrhir suddenly from behind Elladan, "I said that I would take Hannah when we met. You will keep your slimy little hands off her! By George! I insist you do not manhandle her in such way!"

"Excuse me dear brother but you specifically stated that I could take the first pick of the lot and I have done so," Elladan replied, "I am not undermining you but please, your temper is that of a Arab. Do not be so temperamental please, your cries are only as strong as a new born babe."

"I'll teach you a thing or two about who your actually talking about!" with that Elrahir drew his sword and advanced on his brother.

"I love you, you know that correct? Hannah, please, you do know that right?" Elrahir said to Hannah.

"Uhh, yes, sure," replied Hannah still not understand what was going on exactly but she found it just a dandy sport to watch to men fighting over her.

"To our mount!" they said together as they headed off to see who would win the fair damsel's heart in the art of jousting.

(Note: this ought to be good oughtn't it? Yes, too bad I don't know a damn thing about jousting. Oh well, that's what research is! Yippe!)

"But wait!" Elrahir said to his brother, "why do you not pick another? What about Snitter? She is a pretty lass mind you." (Another vague interruption from the loud and boisterous writer whom everyone loves and admires but, who says lass anymore? That's such a groovy word! I should use it more often. Anyway, yes, I'm procrastinating the jousting competition) 

"You stay away from my Snitter you overgrown dwarf! She's mine!" Frodo cried at both the brothers that were quarreling over whom they should betroth.

"**Listen you** **walled eyed little freak**!" shouted the brother together, "you ain't going to tell us who the freakin' heck we're suppose to take. We're the law so deal with it!" And, with that being said, they picked Frodo up and made him join their lovely jousting competition which they knew was probably only going to end in dispute if anyone was alive to dispute with.

Picket found this opportunity a wonderful chance for Hannah and Snitter to become closer with their lovely handsome and witty men who were probably not going to be alive in the next hour or so. They lined up on the sidelines and began routing for the plain joy of it while waving their muddy kerchiefs in the air and singing.

Ok, that was pretty short and pathetic but I had fun calling dear Frodo a walled eyed little freak. I thought of that myself, I did! Now, I just need to find a place to put my other majorly groovy line 'your horse whinnies like a ostrich in labor' somewhere. Sorry for the shortness and I do hope that you enjoyed this one. If you didn't then, umm, I'll go cry and flame you and never you'll never live it down. Ok, well, maybe not but whatever. Unfortunately the crazy writer needs to go to sleep NOW. Bye bye!

Ps, once again, before I go, I did change the title so ya, that's about it. Nothing much else has changed as you probably know but just incase you're an inept unqualified person such as I, you would probably not be able to figure that out. Well, even I would probably figure that out eventually, note that the key word is eventually… bye bye!


End file.
